


The Kings and Haldir, the Marchwarden

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [29]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Roleplay, fantasy threesome, sexual fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:23:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galadriel’s marchwarden, Haldir, who is an unwitting sex object in Thorin and Thranduil’s role-playing games, is sent as an envoy to Erebor.  He is not exactly a lover of dwarves, so will the elf lord find himself in a state of confusion when he first meets our handsome King under the Mountain?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kings and Haldir, the Marchwarden

 

 

.o00o.

 

The Kings and Haldir, the Marchwarden

 

Pt I

 

“ _He's unconventionally attractive and yet coincidentally everything I've ever wanted_.” 

 

The Lady Galadriel handed a package of letters to the handsome marchwarden:  “I want you to deliver these missals for me, Haldir,” she said, and a faint smile played upon her lips.

 

The elf lord placed a hand upon his heart and bowed: “I am deeply honoured,” he replied, “that you have entrusted me with this mission.  Where must I take them?”

 

“To the dwarven kingdom of Erebor.  To Thorin, King under the Mountain.”  And she waited for his reaction.

 

She wasn’t disappointed.  If Haldir had not felt it inappropriate, he would have cast the document pouch from him.  Instead, his lips tightened and he said curtly:  “Is there no other, my lady, who would do this important task for you?”

 

Her gentle smile widened.  “No other, I’m afraid, because so few here in Lorien speak the Common Tongue as well as you do.  It is a rare and useful talent.”

 

Haldir bowed again silently but with a grim expression on his face.  Galadriel raised her hand in dismissal but added: “Let not your dislike of dwarves, Haldir, affect your conduct there.  Remember that it was Thorin and his companions who turned the tide at the Battle of the Five Armies.  If it hadn’t been for them, then the forces of evil would now control the North.

 

Haldir gave a brusque nod of acknowledgement and then walked with a stiff-backed stride from the room.  When he was gone, a little tinkle of laughter fell from the lady’s lips.  “Ah, Haldir,” she murmured to herself.  “If only I could be there to see your meeting.”

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin and Thranduil’s sex life was passionate, lively and frequent.  To outsiders, it seemed that their marriage was a perfect union, even if Thranduil often showed jealousy: their rows and arguments all seemed part and parcel of the intensity of their love.  But, actually, things had been a bit tricky ever since their first night together.

 

The trouble was, they both had dominant personalities but they had not started off on the same, equal footing.  Thorin had been a virgin, committed to the dwarven rule of chastity before marriage.  But, Thranduil had already been married and so had had plenty of practice before his wife had left him and then had died.  The dwarven king had been a bit of an innocent when the elf had seen him for the first time, standing by his grandfather’s throne.  Immediately, Thranduil had wanted him and had set out that evening to seduce him.  He was in no mood to take no for an answer but Thorin had stood his ground, even in the face of considerable sexual aggression, and had rejected him.  That’s when the elf lord had first realised that Thorin had a strong will, however innocent he might seem, and would not necessarily be submissive in any partnership.

 

Years later, they had met up again in Thranduil’s dungeons.  At last, the elven king had him in his power.  But, Thorin had ducked and dived, even though he was drawn to the elf, and made promises that he finally broke when he escaped with his company in a load of barrels.  Thranduil had found it hard to forgive him for his deception, but the sexual pull was still a powerful one and he had followed him to Erebor.  He had been distraught when Thorin had been seriously wounded in the battle that followed and it was then he had realised that he was suffering from love and not just lust.  He had tenderly nursed Thorin back to health, expecting to be rejected again.  But, this time, it was the dwarf who had made the first move and invited him to his bed.

 

However, once there, Thranduil discovered that Thorin knew nothing about anything and he had taken the lead.  He liked being on top and he was turned on by the submission of such a powerful, muscular and masculine being.  And that’s also when Thorin decided it might be interesting to take turns, once he had learned the tricks of the trade, so to speak.  He had always been in charge of things and, exerting his will upon Thranduil and giving him a good fuck, burying his prick in him up to the hilt, seemed the right way to proceed.  And so they tussled, backwards and forwards, both of them seeking dominance.

 

And, at times, their relationship lost some of its excitement and they would have to look for some kind of stimulus.  When Thranduil had suggested that they indulge in role-playing to make their encounters more entertaining, this had caused trouble too.  The elven king had taken on the persona of Haldir, one of Galadriel’s marchwardens, whom he had met on a few occasions over the centuries because they were both Silvan elves.  He did such a good imitation and Thorin had had such a strong sexual reaction that Thranduil had become angry and jealous of his own self, especially after the dwarf expressed a wish to meet the marchwarden one day.  When the arguments were all over, the elf lord was quietly relieved that it was unlikely that his lover would ever meet Galadriel’s servant.  And he lay in bed that morning, softly stroking his sleeping lover and wondering if there would ever come a time when Thorin would prefer someone to himself.

 

At that precise moment, Haldir, with a small entourage, was riding across the great plain that led to the gates of Erebor.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt II

 

 _“I accept the hard reality that I maybe might possibly be just the slightest tiniest littlest bit kinda sorta interested in him.”_  
  


Haldir gazed around him in amazement.  Balin had politely shown him and his companions into the great throne room where he was told the king would be with him shortly.  Efficient servants were now serving them with refreshments.  A number of things had surprised him: the warm welcome that Balin had given him when he was under the impression that an antagonism still existed between elf and dwarf and the courteous manner with which the servants treated the whole entourage.  But, most of all he was stunned by the majesty, the grandeur and the downright artistic and engineering skill that had gone into creating this city under the mountain.  Nothing like this could exist anywhere else on Middle-earth and Haldir was experiencing a sense of confusion as his pre-conceived ideas about dwarves and their barbaric society were challenged.

 

News and gossip spread slowly to Lorien, especially out into the forests where he and his men kept their lonely watch upon its borders; and none of them had been involved with Smaug or the battle before the gates of Erebor.  But, he had vaguely heard that the elves of Mirkwood and the dwarves of Erebor had some kind of close alliance.  Perhaps they had an improved understanding of each other and this was why his welcome had been so generous.  He gave a mental shrug.  His memory of dwarves went back centuries and it would take a lot to convince him that they were a race worth knowing.

 

Haldir’s pre-conceived ideas were challenged again when Thorin entered the room.  Rather than seating himself on his lofty throne, in all his pomp and splendour, he took a place at the table upon which the refreshments had been laid and gestured them all to sit down with him.  No-one attended him: he just sat down as if he were among friends.

 

And then he smiled.  And it was as if the sun had come out.  Haldir had to tell himself to close his mouth.  It was true that, before him sat a dwarf, but one so beautiful that Haldir had to blink in disbelief.  His voice was deep and melodious and he exuded a warmth that was totally and completely unexpected.  Haldir had to remind himself sternly that he had accumulated a thousand reasons over as many years for disliking this particular race and a good-looking face should be no reason for him to give up such long held beliefs now.

 

Thorin, in return, was quite impressed by the handsome envoy who sat before him.  He supposed that all elves were fair of face but this one had a strength of purpose in his eyes that Thorin approved of.

 

“I am Thorin, son of Thrain,” he said with a smile; and then he gestured to the elf.

 

“And I am Haldir, marchwarden of Lorien and envoy of the Lady Galadriel, here to deliver important letters,” was the reply.

 

Thorin started and then grinned.  Haldir!   Why, the elf lord was even better looking than the Haldir of his fantasies.  He wondered if Thranduil would be pleased to meet up with an old acquaintance again.  He should be joining them shortly but, hearing that an envoy from Galadriel had arrived in the court, he had gone to take a bath and to prepare himself with some silken finery or other.  Thranduil could be so proper as far as etiquette was concerned……but not so proper in his bed.  And Thorin grinned inwardly again at the thought.

 

The dwarf received the document pouch from Haldir graciously and then chatted with him and his fellow elves amiably over a glass of wine, asking about their journey and about news from Lorien.  But, although he put up a good show, Thorin was finding it difficult to maintain a serious conversation, not when he was remembering those sex games that he and Thranduil had played together or the way he had cried out Haldir’s name as his partner, in the guise of the marchwarden, had brought him to the most delicious sexual fulfilment.  “Oh, Haldir!  No-one is as good as you,” he had gasped.  And he found himself wondering just how good the real Haldir actually was.

 

And then his salacious thoughts were interrupted as Thranduil entered the room, looking very fine in a fresh set of silken robes.  Thorin felt quite proud of him.  The elven king paused with a look of surprise on his face.  “Haldir!” he exclaimed.

 

Haldir rose to his feet in similar surprise.  “Thranduil!  This is unexpected!”  Actually, he nearly said rudely, “What are you doing here?”  but he managed to bite his tongue just in time.

 

Thorin was beaming and gestured towards the elf.  “May I present my marriage partner, Thranduil, king of Mirkwood,” he announced.  And an appalled silence fell upon the room.

 

The two kings saw the shocked look on their faces.  “Ah, they didn’t know,” Thorin said with a wry smile, turning towards his lover. 

 

But, Thranduil was beginning to grow angry.  “Did no-one think to tell you?” he snapped.  And Haldir remembered the amused look on his lady’s face as she had handed over the letters.

 

But, ever the diplomat, he managed a smooth reply:  “This is wondrous news indeed,” he said with a bow.  “And may I be the first from Lorien to offer my congratulations.”  The others in his entourage, following his example, muttered their best wishes too and Thranduil was pacified.

 

There followed a rather stilted half hour when they all tried to make civil conversation, but Haldir found it difficult to look at either of the two kings without obscene and pornographic images of them both together flashing before his eyes.

 

In the end, Thorin rose from his seat and said in a solicitous fashion, “You must all be very tired.  My servant will show you to your rooms where you can rest from your journey.”  And he gestured forward a servant who led them from the hall.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt III

 

_“I looked at this man and thought: Oh, how we are going to hurt each other.”_

 

Haldir’s confusion continued on into the evening when he and his companions descended to the dining hall for a surprisingly elegant meal.  There was plenty of green stuff to satisfy the elves and it was all set out beautifully – not at all what he had expected.  The dwarven courtiers were polite and welcoming and he noticed the warmth that they showed Thranduil, engaging him in lively conversation and often patting him affectionately on the arm as they made a point.  He wasn’t sure whether or not he approved of this familiarity but it was not exactly what he had expected from a dwarf to an elf.

 

Thranduil, in return, seemed equally relaxed in their company.  But, it was the elven king’s manner towards his partner that both amazed and repulsed him.

 

Thorin was looking even more attractive that evening.  In their honour, he supposed, he was dressed in a slinky, silk robe – an interpretation of the elven style – but his great arms were bare except for fine mithril bracelets above the elbow, squeezing tightly around his biceps, and a series of involved tattoos.  Tattoos!  Ah, the horror!  But Haldir found that he was having difficulty drawing his eyes away in the same way that he couldn’t stop staring at the curling hairs that he could see emerging so suggestively from the top of his neckline.

 

Thranduil sat next to the dwarf and Haldir found his manner very disturbing.  He touched Thorin often, and the way that he gazed into the dwarven king’s eyes and spoke to him in soft, tender tones made the marchwarden shudder.  There was definitely something sensual and suggestive in all that passed between them.  And, again, sexual images floated before his eyes.  He wondered who went on top, who had the biggest prick, who the deepest throat, who the most stamina and how many times they came each night.  He also wondered if it was always just the two of them or if they ever invited others to join in the fun.

 

And he couldn’t help it but he began to imagine himself as the third party.

 

“And is Galadriel’s stronghold similar in beauty to that of Rivendell and Mirkwood?” Thorin asked politely….and Haldir nearly jumped out of his skin as he was wrenched away from some especially lewd thought regarding the two kings and himself.

 

“Er, it is different but still very beautiful,” he managed to get out.  “Lorien has glorious giant treehouses.  But, sadly, I and my troop do not live there but in the forests where we have flets or great platforms built amid the treetops.”

 

Thorin nodded with interest and then turned to speak with the elf across the table from him.  Haldir had some time to study his strong and noble profile and thought that everything about the dwarf exuded strength.  What must it be like, he thought, as his mind wandered once more, to succumb to such power?  And he tried very hard but with little success to feel a disgust for those large hands     and muscled throat and bearded features.

 

At last, the evening came to an end and everyone retired with a certain amount of relief to their own rooms.  Thranduil appeared to be in a bad temper, Thorin noted, which surprised him because he thought that his lover would have been pleased to be reunited with Haldir and with the elves of his escort.  But, no!  The moment that Thorin slid into bed next to him, he snapped: “I saw you looking at him, so don’t deny it!”

 

The dwarf snorted with disbelief.  “Say rather that it was Haldir staring at _me_.  He couldn’t believe our relationship, nor could he see my appeal.  I think he still couldn’t fathom it by the end of the evening.”

 

“But you were staring too,” cried the elf, “and I know what you were thinking: you were thinking about our role-play and whether he was as good in bed as I made him in our fantasy, weren’t you?”  And he hit so near the mark that Thorin flushed.

 

“Don’t talk rubbish,” he snarled.  “You’re always accusing me of things I’m not guilty of.”  And he managed to look both offended and innocent at the same time.

 

It worked.  “Sorry, Thorin,” said the elf humbly, “but you know what I’m like.”

 

The dwarf took him gently in his arms and kissed the tip of his nose.  “Don’t worry,” he said.  “We’re both feeling a bit stressed at the moment.  I shall be glad when Haldir and his men have gone.”

 

But Thranduil looked so guilty still that Thorin hugged him even more tightly to his breast.  “Now, what can I do, my love, to cheer you up?” he asked.  “Would you like to tie me to the bed?  Now, how about that?”  Since that awful experience in Bree, the elf had sworn that he would never ask to tie the dwarven king up again, but Thorin’s offer was very tempting.

 

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking very grateful.  And Thorin leaned over to the bedside cabinet and pulled out a couple of silk scarves.

 

“Just for you,” he grinned.  And, as his lover tied him to the bedhead, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about how cunning he was being.

 

And when he was naked and bound and Thranduil had pushed his legs up high and, groaning, had thrust deep inside him, Thorin began to fantasise about being tied to a tree by Haldir.  He came incredibly quickly and he had to concentrate hard as the spasms rolled through him so that the name of the marchwarden wasn’t torn in an ecstatic scream from his lips.  But, the elven king was happy that Thorin had allowed him to use the silken scarves for once and that he had been on top and had climaxed very intensely himself.  He also felt very smug about his technique because Thorin had come so powerfully and so quickly.

 

“Well,” he thought contentedly as he undid the scarves and tucked the dwarf comfortably under his arm, “I don’t think Thorin will go looking for another lover whilst he has _me_ to satisfy him.”

 

And Thorin lay there wondering what the real Haldir would be like to screw.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt IV

 

“ _It’s the unknown that draws people_.” 

 

Haldir, meanwhile, had tossed and turned in his bed for an hour but couldn’t get to sleep  as images from the evening swirled through his mind: Thorin’s biceps, Thorin’s tattoos, Thorin’s chest hair, Thorin’s voice, Thorin’s backside so beautifully outlined by his slithery robe.  It just went on and on.

 

He sat up and plumped his pillow and then banged his head back on it again.  And then….he couldn’t help it….his hand drifted down to touch his swollen member.  He was wearing a silken night shirt and he stroked his prick gently through the sleek material.

 

The elf lord despised himself for what he was doing.  He disliked dwarves and had looked down on them as an inferior race for hundreds of years.  And yet, after seeing Thorin and discovering his relationship with Thranduil, of all people, endless lewd thoughts were circling in his head and his prick insisted on responding to the images.

 

As a fantasy burgeoned behind the closed lids of his eyes, he imagined Thorin naked.  What did he look like?  He would be muscular and strapping, of course, just like the exposed arms he had seen that evening.  And he would be covered in hair.  So unlike the smooth, naked body of an elf.  He should be repulsed and he couldn’t understand why he wasn’t.  And the more he imagined Thorin stripped of his clothes, the harder he became.

 

The scenario in his head became more vivid.  In his imagination, his eyes dropped to the dwarf’s genitals: large, of course, like his big hands.  He imagined the dwarf gazing upon him lustfully and his member becoming erect.  And he wanted to be fucked by him. 

 

Why?  Haldir was totally confused.  He belonged to a superior race and, if anyone was going to do the fucking, it should be him.  But, he wanted to bend over the bed and feel Thorin inside him, pumping away violently, and he wanted to feel totally helpless and at his mercy.

 

He stroked himself faster and harder through the silk and he could hear his fantasy dwarf snarl abuse about elves in his ear.  He gasped and squirmed and came on a great cry. 

 

The elf lord lay there panting and ashamed.  Then he stripped off the soiled shirt and cast it on the floor.  Sleep descended and he embraced it – this was one way he could forget this dwarven king and the fantasy world he was building around him.

 

But, it wasn’t so easy to dictate to the images in his head.  And, when he woke up in the early hours, he found himself fully erect again.  Irritably, Haldir stretched down to grasp his cock and, this time, his fantasy involved both Thorin and Thranduil.  Sandwiched between the two kings, yet another powerful climax rocked him.  The elf angrily punched his pillow and went to sleep once more.

 

But, as the dawn came, Haldir awoke from a dream in which he had been crawling on the floor, begging the dwarf to let him suck his cock and he furiously brought this to yet another conclusion.  The elf was exhausted but got up, bathed and dressed anyway.  It had been his intention to stay a week or two so that he and his men could have a decent rest but he knew he couldn’t cope with being in the dwarven king’s presence much longer – it was just too sexually stimulating in a way that he found horribly disturbing.  He would remain just one more day so that Thorin could reply to Galadriel’s letters, and then he would be gone.

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin wasn’t disappointed either when he found out that the envoy was keen to leave early.  He sensed that Haldir was not exactly enamoured of dwarves and it had been a bit difficult entertaining him.  Moreover, he felt quite guilty about the way he was involving Thranduil in his fantasies about him.  No, it was best that he left.  And he urged the elven king to take the marchwarden out riding so that he could get on with answering the letters from Lorien as quickly as possible.  Then Haldir would no longer have an excuse to remain.

 

A day later, the marchwarden and the dwarven king faced each other on the steps of the courtyard as the horses were brought from the stables; and they bowed graciously to each other.  Thorin still looked at Haldir curiously and wondered yet again what sort of lover he was.  Well, he thought, no point in wondering: Haldir wouldn’t touch him with a barge pole.  And an amused smile flashed briefly across his face.

 

Haldir felt Thorin’s sexual magnetism and gritted his teeth.  The king was mouthing elegant platitudes but he didn’t hear them: rather he couldn’t tear his eyes away from those beautifully moulded and bearded lips and he wanted to take him in his arms and kiss him in a passionate farewell.

 

And so, they parted, one from the other.

 

But, much to his distress, his obsession with the dwarf failed to lessen, even as the leagues between them grew.  Every night, Haldir lay in his bed roll with his hand between his thighs and, when he sensed that his fellow elves were all asleep, he was compelled to slip away into the trees, there to rub himself to yet another gasping climax.  It was a tired and bad-tempered marchwarden who finally presented himself before the Lady Galadriel whose motives in sending him to Erebor he now entirely suspected.

 

“And what did you think of our dwarven king?” she asked.

 

“I thought him well enough,” said Haldir curtly.  And Galadriel sighed inwardly because she felt that Haldir’s attitudes towards dwarves had not shifted a single inch.

 

 _No, for all your machinations, my lady_ , Haldir thought, _I shall always dislike and despise them_.  And he took himself back to his room, there to rest and ponder and daydream and fantasise about a certain, handsome dwarven king.

 

.o00o.

 

 

**Poor, confused Haldir, LOL!  I’m afraid this disconcerting experience stays with him for a long time so that he can’t even be polite to Gimli when he passes through Lorien, years later, in the company of the Fellowship.  And neither he nor Thorin were aware of the potential for passion that had been generated by their meeting but just went their separate ways, their paths never to cross again.  Naughty Galadriel, doing her little stir!**

**In my next story, The Kings and the Love Letters, we shall get a ‘bonejarringly jealous Thorin’, just as aninnina requested!**


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